


Best Friends Don’t Feel Like This

by ramostozier



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Extreme use of Eds, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous!Eddie, M/M, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Teen AU, no pennywise, oblivious!richie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-04-27 00:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14414016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramostozier/pseuds/ramostozier
Summary: Because suddenly, Eddie didn't know why his heart sped up when Richie entered the room, or why his palms filled with clammy sweat, or why he could never quite ever manage a full sentence when Richie took his shirt off. It's normal for all best friends to feel this way, right?





	1. Richie Tozier got hot?

"WHEN THE FUCK, did Richie Tozier get hot?" Greta loudly expressed as she eyed up the much taller boy, jaw dropped in shock as the kid who was once a scrawny, twig legged, four eyed wearing thing, now strolled through the hallways a new boy. A new man. 

Richie paced down the hallway,  a small smirk formed on his lips at Greta's comment.

Eddie's head snapped to his right upon hearing the pronouncement of his best friends name. He flittered his eyes around the hallway, looking for a skinny, trash mouth but was met with nothing.

"Where the —" Eddie started before the person in question came into view, "— oh. Richie! You're back!"

Eddie flung his arms around Richie's still lithe, but now bulkier frame, his head barely reached Richie's shoulder. 

"Woah, chill, Eddie—Spaghetti!" Richie chuckled before returning the smaller boys hug, resting his chin atop of his head. Richie'd been away at his cousin, Mike, house in Hawkins for summer. 

His parents called it ' family bonding ', Richie called bullshit, and thought it was an excuse to get him out of the house for a few months so they could forget he even existed. 

The pairs eyes shut momentarily as they took in each other. Familiar scents drifted, and for Richie, at least, he felt home. However, the increased silence around them was the factor in their awkward separation.

Eddie coughed, awkwardly trying to distract his peers from focusing on the pairs lingering embrace, "So... How was Mike's?"

"Lame," Richie said, uninterested in discussing a summer he'd already had to have lived out, "all they do is play dungeons and dragons, and Mike has this crazy, weird girlfriend..." Richie lowered his voice for the next sentence as if Mike was around the corner, and not half the country away, "I think she's mental."

Eddie rolled his eyes at Richie's mannerisms, he shook his head as he scolded the boy, "that's not very nice, Richie."

"Yeah well, she made my glasses crack! She didn't even touch them!" 

As Richie mentioned his glasses, Eddie noticed his lack of the coke bottle frames. His eyebrows furrowed as he actually took Richie in; like, physically in. Richie had ditched the dorky glasses; wearing contacts Eddie presumed.

On top of that, his raven locks had sprouted a few more inches, unruly and unkempt, shoved behind his ears. Eddie barely reached his shoulders now, whereas prior to summer he was nearing Richie's reasonable height.

Richie twisted the lock beside Eddie's head and pulled it open to grab his PE gear out. He slung them over his shoulder, then turned to Eddie, "ready for gym, Eds," he said as ruffled the smaller boy's mousey hair.

"Wha—what?" Eddie shook himself out his stare. He didn't even know why he was staring to begin with, it's Richie; just a little taller, bulkier and —

"I said, ready for gym, stupid."

"Will I ever be ready for gym?!" Eddie exhaled, "wonder whose brilliant idea it was to shove a bunch of sweaty boys into one room and make them play a bunch of contact sports."

Richie swung his arm around Eddie's shoulder and dragged the two through the hallway, catching the eye of other students. Their whispers started to spread:

 

"Is that... Richie?"

 

"No freakin' way, that's trash mouth!"

 

"Whose the fag's new friend? Wait, fuck, it's Tozier."

 

In a cat like manner, Eddie's shoulders hunched upon the last comment. He shied away from Richie's grasp whom shrugged it off. 

Eddie knew what the other kids around school thought of him: he was short, skinny, his voice hadn't quite dropped, and he carried around not one; but two fanny packs. To them, he was the definition of a high school gay boy. Not that he was, he was positive he liked girls, he had to.

"Don't listen to them Eds, they're just a bunch of asswipes," Richie reassured him, which only made Eddie roll his eyes.

He scoffed and strung his thumbs around the loopholes of his maroon khakis, "easy for you to say, and don't call me Eds, Rich.” 

"Oi, getting feisty there, Eds."

"Richie." 

"Aye, that's me. Say my name three times, and I'm your genie!"

They neared the gym entrance, sounds of grunting and squeaky shoes upon wooden floors reverberating. The pungent stench of odour mixed with overuse of deodorant forced Eddie to keen over in a coughing fit. 

Richie clapped his back multiple to times, hurrying him along, muttering "we can't be late, Mr. Spaghetti!"

"But, it smells so bad!"

"And so do you, but I'm not complaining," Richie clicked his tongue teasingly as he dragged Eddie through the double doors, into the gym, or what Eddie formally associated as Hell.

Mr Owens, their teacher, assembled them into two lines by last name.

Edward Kaspbrak, was in the first group, sectioned off to the left side of the room. Whilst Richard Tozier was put on the opposing team. Richie raised one eyebrow tauntingly at Eddie across the room, gesticulating how he was ' going down '. A comment which Eddie knew was utterly true.

"Alright, you numb nuts," Mr Owens announced which garnered the attention of the thirty boys, "we're playing a game of good, old school basketball, shirts versus skins."

Eddie squirmed when Mr Owens said shirts, and skins. He knew it would only end in ridicule for himself, so he crossed his fingers, double tight that it would be the other side.

"A's through to M, you're on shirts, the rest of you, strip." Inappropriate comments sprung from Owen's comment, not that he cared, and half the room began to whip off their shirts.

Uncomfortable, Eddie averted his eyes not quite sure where to look, landing on Richie right as his shirt covered his face.

By this point, Eddie's chest had flushed a deep crimson, luckily hidden by his shirt. He cursed himself silently.

It wasn't that he was attracted to Richie — because it's Richie, and gross ! — but that Eddie himself had never really be in a sexual situation, to put it simply. He put it down to raging hormones; because, what else could it be.

Eddie's eyes however wandered, and they pondered just a little. Wouldn't it be nice to be Richie? At least right now, because shirtless Richie... that's something to be jealous of.

So stuck in his thoughts, he didn't notice Richie throw his shirt to the floor, catch Eddie's wandering eyes and give him a small smirk.

Coach called up the first set of players from each team, which included the best friends. Eddie groaned and stood at the furtherest end of the court. He hoped that he could just be ignored by his team mates, and let them do all the work, at least that way they could win.

"GO!” 

Boys panted and huffed as the grappled for the red, striped ball, pushing into each other to get it like it was a prized ruby. Richie was among that bunch. He used his speed to get to the ball first, bouncing it as he side stepped Richie's team mates, making it dangerously close to Eddie's end of the court before he got intercepted.

Richie frowned at Eddie standing, picking at his fingernails, half–heartedly interested in the outcome of this game. "You playing, or what?"

"I'm on the court, what more do you want."

"Tozier! Kaspbrak! Heads in the game!"

One of Eddie's team mates then simultaneously called out to him, chucking the ball his way, to which Eddie, miraculously caught. He stood there like a deer caught in the headlights, legs slightly apart, hands clenched around the ball, confusedly trying to understand. "What do I do?" He screeched at Richie, whom laughed. 

"You run, Eds!"

Eddie made a mental note to berate Richie later, but he was too enthralled with making it to the other end of the court.

He padded lightly on his feet, bouncing the ball as he ran to the other side. Eddie's face filled with glee and he wanted to scream, 'Look Momma! Look!' but just as he managed to get the hang of it, Eddie was knocked off his feet; sent flying across the gym, and the ball was stolen.

Richie's stomach filled with rage as he watched Eddie's frail body soar. "What the fuck, dude?" He said to the boy who'd injured his best friend, who didn't seem to have any qualms about doing it, who almost seemed ... pleased.

"Faggot needed a lesson." The boy's name was Bruce Geoffrey, addressed as ' bubba ' by most of the school. Richie thought he was the biggest piece of shit covered toilet paper to exist, bar the past Henry Bowers.

Richie snarled at Bruce before he dashed over to Eddie, kneeling at his sides. Eddie's breathing came out in short sharp breaths, speeding up with time, his chest contracting fast get than Richie could count. A shaky finger pointed to Eddie's fanny pack, and Richie got the message; inhaler.

With the added help of a few puffs from his inhaler, Eddie came right, but his pride was still slightly damaged.

"I had the ball, Rich..."

"I know, Eds. I saw, you were so fast — like lightning," Richie spoke in a gentle tone as if he were talking to a small child. He combed his fingers lightly through the curls on Eddie's forehead.

Eddie's lips curved upwards slightly. "D—don't call me Eds." He didn't stutter much, not ever usually, but this 'being put in his place' matter scared him enough to make it come out.

"Got it, Spaghetti—o."

Richie gasped as Eddie slapped his arms. But they grinned, careless to the circle of teenage boys which had begun to form around them, eyes bung wide at the affection the best friends threw around. 

It was unheard of.


	2. Richsta!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie furiously smashed his controller, left — then right — then up — the left again. His minuscule yellow pacman darting around the digitalised screen. For all his persistence, Eddie sucked at pacman; and by sucked, he absolutely sucked.

**"HEY EDDIO,"** Richie shouted across the main car park, forcing Eddie to stubbornly turn around, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. "Wanna go to the arcade?"  


Despite the fact that Richie matured in looks, and without his geeky glasses may not look like a caricature nerd, it was ingrained; heart and soul. He had spent at least half his summer in Hawkins at the local arcade; thumbs forever stuck in awkward positions, eyes glued to a pixelated screen, and the wafting smell of competitive sweat mixed with raspberry slushies lingered on him the whole time.   


Richie strolled casually towards his best friend and relaxed against the bike rack which Eddie stood by.   


"So — so! Whaddya' say, Ed–day!"   


Eddie frowned and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous habit he picked up when trying to decrease his inhaler use.   


"It's like you don't even know her," He said worried about his still, overprotective mother. Eddie may have been sixteen, and not the little runt of a boy he was — well, physically yes he was, but mentally he had developed — but his mother still insisted on strict bed times, curfews and completely overbearing Eddie.   


"Oh, come on! Mrs K and I are very — " Eddie thrust his hand in front of Richie's face, a signal for him to stop talking.   


"I swear," Eddie gulped with overtly exaggerated rolled eyes, "if you make a one more joke about mommy, we will not be friends anymore."  


Richie fake gasped, grasping onto the handles of Eddie's bicycle to lean closely into his face, trapping Eddie from being able to remove it from the rack.  "You couldn't do that to me Eds," Eddie could feel Richie's peppermint bubblegum slapping his cheeks, "you love me too much!"  


It was true, Eddie couldn't think of life without his best friend — his partner in crime, his bad influence, his Richard Tozier.   


"I think you mean, I hate you — "  


"Is that a yes then?" Richie's lips quirked up into a smirk, his eyebrow cocked in a teasing manner. When it came to Eddie, Richie always knew which buttons to push, and now he was as gleeful as a cat who got the cream.   


Eddie groaned in defeat as he tugged his bike out of Richie's and slung one leg over the seat, which only suppressed a devilish grin out of Richie. "You better have change — mommy will know if I use mine."  


As if he was a sports pro, Richie used a running head start to get his bike propelling forward, before he leaped onto the moving object. His legs clicked into place, adjusted correctly to fit the pedals, and he threw his head back to call out to Eddie, "Of course! Now bust a move, buster, times a wastin'!"  


This left Eddie with no choice but to pedal, and pedal, and pedal his tiring legs in an effort to catch up with Richie.   
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Eddie furiously smashed his controller, left — then right — then up — the left again. His minuscule yellow pacman darting around the digitalised screen. For all his persistence, Eddie sucked at pacman; and by sucked, he  _absolutely sucked._  


Richie chuckled at the smaller boy's antics every time he lost a life and would have to start again. It started with a loud, miserable, "No!" Then he'd kick the bottom of the large game, wincing as he caught his biggest toe, and proceed to curse the ghost monsters. It was a repetitive cycle, and yet he still hadn't come very far with the simple game.   


Eddie, on the other hand, would not give up. Over the summer, coinciding with Richie's absence, Eddie had spent more time at the arcade. After getting past his fear of the sticky, orange frosty covered controllers he actually quite enjoyed it.   


There was a singular name which taunted him every time he lost a life, and it would return to the leader board:   


**[ 1 ] :** ** RICHSTA **  


It only made Eddie's competitive spirit rise. That, and the fact that the man himself was giggling at Eddie's every single move.   


"This is it!" Eddie mumbled to himself whilst out stretching his arms, cracking his head to the left, then right. "You got this!"  


Eddie was actually doing averagely okay. He'd beaten his current high school, something pitiful, but a success nonetheless. Then just when things looked up, a pair of hands covered his on the controllers.   


They nudged his in the right direction to collect more points, fingers locked so tight Eddie couldn't even break free. He tensed up in his shoulders before a familiar voice whispered in his ear, black locks falling beside his eye, "it's just me, Eds."  


"I don't need your help!" Eddie tried to take back control of his hands, but his strength was inferior to Richie's who mindlessly navigated the way to getting a much higher score than Eddie could've ever got on his own.   


"Fuck you, Tozier." Eddie said half heartedly, only able to watch as his hands were moved and he attempted one last try at getting Richie's hands  —  
off which worked — and then he died.   


Richie rested his chin atop of Eddie's shoulder, nesting in quite comfortably. He enjoyed watching Eddie squirm to get out of his grasp, managing to spin around so they faced each other.   


"I don't need your help, he says!" Richie wildly threw his hands up in the air, then pointed to the screen multiple times, "Huh! Huh!"   


Pixels flood the screen and the leader board appears, in tow with it's catchy music. Eddie whacked his headtoward it, and suddenly, the name that had taunted him for the past half hour was bunked down to second place.   


Replaced by:  


**[ 1 ] :** ** EDDIE **  


"Yeah. You help me beat yourself, you twat."  


Richie cocked his head, raising his eyebrow at Eddie's statement before he gazed at the screen. "Oh fuck."  


It gave Eddie something to smirk at; he beat the trash talking, video gamer at his own game — with his own help!   


Richie muttered to himself, "I'll beat it next time."  


"Sure you will, Rich. But remember, it was obviously me who did  _all_  the hard work!"  


"Of course, Eddie Spaghetti," Richie flicked the top of his best friends head before he pulled the shorter boy onto a nearby set of curvy, blue plastic seats.   


Everything smelt of sugar, sweat, and salivating confidence. Eddie's legs shifted uncomfortably as he felt two out of the three on his seat. "How many times do I have to tell you, my name is Eddie,  _Richie_."  


"Enough times for me to lose count!"  


"Why are we even friends?"  


Richie leant across the table, raven hair partially clouding his view as he spoke quickly to Eddie, "because — we'd have no one else."  


Half truths. Eddie would have no one else, Richie on the other hand with his shocking sprout of puberty could easily land a few friends, way cooler than Eddie Kaspbrak. But he didn't, and you could say that's what made Richie Tozier, Richie; his best friend Eddie.   


"Oh shut up and buy me a soda."  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah, woah, woah i actually love ao3 like man.


	3. Eddie's a little blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "C'mere," Richie motioned with two fingers to summon Eddie. He stuck two fingers in his mouth which wasn't as contaminated with the blue colouring as Eddie's. 
> 
> "No — no!" Eddie squirmed but Richie had already clasped his jaw with one hand, and smudged the blue around his lips away. "Richie! That is so unsanitary, oh god, I think I'm gonna puke."
> 
>  
> 
> "Oh, chill you baby," Richie turned Eddie's shoulders to face his reflection in the window pane. "Look," he said with a cheeky smile, "all gone."

_THURSDAY 4th OCTOBER, 1993_   
_5:23_ **_PM_ ** _— Jackson St & Kasprak home _

 

**"RICHIE STOP BIKING UP MY ASS!"** Eddie threw his head back to scream at the raven haired boy, who biked dangerously close to the rear of Eddie's, their wheels precariously nudging each other's every so often. Naturally, Richie disregarded this comment. 

     Blue tainted Eddie's lips he as pulled a menacing frown at his best friend who had begun to bike in line with him, raven hair lashing wildly against the force of the wind, revealing his sharp cut cheekbones.   
  


     Richie grinned widely at Eddie, raising both hands off of the bars of his bike momentarily to make a love heart with his hands.   
  


     Holding a blueberry slushie that Richie brought him at the arcade in his left hand, Eddie controlled his bike with the other. He took a large slurp before he responded to Richie by sticking his vividly bubblegum blue tongue at him. "You're an ass," he said in between taking more sips.   
  


    "Correction — I  _have_  a nice ass," Richie drifted his bike down the next right harshly, pulling up into Eddie's street. The pair slowed down as Eddie's two story house came into view.   
  


     His feet begun to pedal lethargically, finally changing from the rate they'd been racing home. "Can you finish this?" Eddie asked Richie, sticking out the blueberry slushie cup, "mommy will kill me if she found out I had preservatives."  
  


     Richie shrugged before taking the cup, "as if the blue lips and tongue aren't a big enough give away," he winked then enclosed his lips around the straw.   
  


    "Shit," Eddie cursed, releasing he didn't quite think his plan through, and wiped his lips furiously with his free hand in an attempt to get the colouring to fade.   
  


     They pulled up into Eddie's driveway, his mom's car parked there, and the lights shining brightly from inside. Richie leant forward on his seat to place both feet on the ground for stability, while Eddie settled his to the side against the fence.   
  


     Eddie rubbed his lips harshly with the back of his palm, to no avail, in getting colour off.   
  


      "C'mere," Richie motioned with two fingers to summon Eddie. He stuck two fingers in his mouth which wasn't as contaminated with the blue coloring as Eddie's. 

      "No — no!" Eddie squirmed but Richie had already clasped his jaw with one hand, and smudged the blue around his lips away. "Richie! That is  _so unsanitary_ , oh god, I think I'm gonna puke."  
  


       "Oh, chill you baby," Richie turned Eddie's shoulders to face his reflection in the window pane. "Look," he said with a cheeky smile, "all gone."  
  


      "Yeah, well, I could've done that my —"  
  


     "Eddie–Bear, is that you?" Sonia Kaspbrak peeked her head out of the front door, and upon seeing her son, fully extended out.   
  


     Shrugging Richie's arm off his shoulders, Eddie waved at his mother, "Yes ma. I'll be there in a second."  
  


     Eddie shooed Richie away with his hands but not before the taller boy could slip in a snide remark, to which Eddie rolled his eyes in response.   
  


      "Look out, Eddiekins, blue tongue is contagious."  
  


     Then as Eddie spun around to march into his house, Richie plunged his foot out to whack Eddie gently on his bottom, forcing him to fumble over his feet for a few steps. "Fucking hell," Eddie muttered as he regained his balance, looking up to see his mother had watched the entire interaction.   
  


      "Come in, Eddie bear. Dinner is served."  
  


     Eddie begrudgingly entered the house, his mother closing the door behind him. He missed Richie's presence already. Without him it was like a cookie without chocolate chips, plain, simple and boring.   
  


     They ate dinner that night in partial silence. Eddie picked over the bones in his stew, pushing them lazily around his plate, chin caught in his palm. "No elbows on the table, Eddie." His mother scolded him, thumping his arm.   
  


      "Yes mommy."

      "Good. Now help me with these dishes, will you."

     Eddie obediently stood up and collected the dinner plates, bringing them into the kitchen. He ran the sink with burn your hand hot water, squeezing a dollop of dish liquid to create a lots of suds, and swirled the dish scrubber around the sink.   
  


     Sonia Kaspbrak took over from her son, and instructed him to grab a towel to dry the dishes with. "How was your day, Eddie. Any trouble at school?"  
  


     Eddie grimaced as he remember PE that day, "well, uh," he fumbled over his own words, "I got pushed over in PE today. But Richie, he uh, helped me."  
  


     The silence was palpable between the two as Eddie's mother processed the information. Her next words were uttered seriously, "do you need me to take this to the principal?"  
  


     Eddie shook his head violently, "no—no mommy." He proceeded to hastily dry the next few dishes while avoiding his mom's questioning, answering with mumbled 'yes.' 'mhmm.' 'okay mommy.'  
  


     Once he finished the very last dish, and his mother had drained the water, Eddie prepared himself to go upstairs to his room when he was stopped. "Oh, Eddie Bear, I want you to be wary of Richie."  
  


     Eddie furrowed his eyebrows confusedly, "why mommy?" He asked with genuine disbelief. Richie was the only one who ever stuck up for him, the only one to take care of him when others wouldn't, including his mother.  
  


      "You were such a good boy this summer, while he was gone. I think he caught something while he was at his cousins, I don't want you to have the same  _disease_."  
  


     Eddie went to speak again but was interrupted again.   
  


     "Hurry along to your room now, Eddie Bear, early night tonight."  
  


     Eddie bounded up the stairs two at a time, using the handrail to propel him further. The words his mother had said still confused him; Richie wasn't sick. Eddie would know, he's been sick multiple times, and Richie sure wasn't. _So_ , Eddie thought to himself, _if he's not sick — what could mommy possibly mean?_ The thought bothered him for the next while as Eddie gathered his stuff for bed.   
  


**RING.**

**RING.**

**RING.**   
  


     Eddie's lilac telephone placed on his bedside table rung aloud three times, the phone jiggling atop the box, annoying him enough to pick up the box. "Hello? Edward Kaspbrak speaking."  
  


     "Ooh, formal there Eds!" Eddie groaned upon hearing Richie's familiar low, but nasally voice, reverberating through the phone's speaker.   
  


     "What do you want, Richie?" He cut to the crap, knowing Richie barely called unless something was up — or if he wanted something.   
  


     It was as if Eddie could feel Richie's smile through the phone, and it shon in his voice. "Nothing, Eddie Bear. Just wanted to chat with my best friend."  
  


     And so they did. Eddie laid back on his bed, twirling the twisted phone cord in between his finger, legs sprawled out in front of him. It was a scene cut from a classic chick flick film. Two best friends gossiping, bitchin', giggling. Except when Richie giggled, it was a cute giggle, more like one where it came from the depths of his belly and forced him to keen over in laughter. Eddie loved it.   
  


     An hour had passed. Eddie chewed down on his lower lip as the clock ticked cautiously on his beside, reminding him of his mother down stairs who would kill him if she knew he was up this late. But there was one thing he had to ask.   
  


     "Hey Rich..."  
  


     "Yeah, Eds." Eddie didn't pull him up about the pet name.   
  


     "Mommy said something tonight... she uh, said you had a  _disease_  or something and that I wasn't allowed to catch it?"  
  


     Richie's eyes bulged in his own room, blinking a few times to try and comprehend exactly what Sonia Kaspbrak had said about him. He managed to compose himself before he replied with a witty remark, "yeah. It's called  _big dickitus_ , she experienced it first hand."  
  


     Eddie rolled his eyes, "I'm serious, Richie. Why would she say that?"  
  


     "I don't know," Richie said honestly, twirling his own phone cord much like  Eddie had done early. "Just don't think on it."  
  


     "Night Rich."  
  


     "Night Eds."  
  


     That night Eddie fell fast asleep with a smile adorned on his lips, fingers curled around the edges of his blankets, sighing in relief. He took Richie's advice, and didn't focus too much on his mother's comment. 

_Richie did._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the reception on this fic, means lots <3


	4. New Kid on Richie’s Block

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't like her, Richie."
> 
>  
> 
> "You just meet her!"
> 
>  
> 
> "Yeah. Well, it's a gut feeling."

  
THURSDAY 4th OCTOBER, 1993  
7:47 PM — Tozier Home

  
    AUTUMN BEGUN RIGHT IN FRONT OF RICHIE'S WINDOW. He watched as the once emerald leaves on his neighbour's tree turned a golden, crispy colour, and then crumbled to the ground. In the night sky, they looked like little stars falling to earth, and Richie made a wish on each one. It was fascinating, at least until his view was blocked by a large, white moving van.

  
    "Oh, for fucks sakes." Richie wildly cursed, pulling his body away from his window to unclasp the hook. He opened it and shoved his head out, dark hair blending in with the night sky, and pale skin blending with the house's white walls. "Who the fucking hell is that?"

  
    Two bodies shuffled out of the van, not caring about how much noise they made, unlike the midnight cat slinking along the fence. One figure was much smaller than the other, and Richie could make out little feminine features through shadows; long hair, curved hips, delicate limbs.

  
    The other was built much more sternly, Richie could tell, and paced with commanding authority. Richie could hear his baritone voice instructing the girl to unlock the house.

  
    She stepped under the porch light, and Richie was nearly blown away. He let out a shocked gasp, blinking multiple times as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, as if his eyes had deceived him.

  
    Richie knew Eddie didn't have any siblings, but by god, she truly could be. She had that glinting shade of copper brown hair, with curls identical to the ones that decorated Eddie's, and her eyes shon the same dark brown as Eddie's. Fuck, she was even small and lithe like his Eddie.

  
    Almost as if she could sense someone watching her, the mystery girl cocked her head up to Richie's bedroom window. She raised her eyebrow conspicuously at him, but shrugged it off as she opened the door to let her father in.

  
    Richie could feel the red seeping into his neck, reprimanding himself multiple times. "Stupid, stupid, Richie." He hastily brought his head back into the comfort of his own room, standing flush against the wall, praying the girl wouldn't look again.

  
    There was a kerfuffle outside for the next few minutes that Richie could hear, before that baritone voice expressed loudly. "Screw it, we'll finish this in the morning."

  
    Richie nearly crumbled at what came next. "Okay daddy," the Eddie imposter replied sweetly. He couldn't believe it, her own fucking voice was just like Eddie's.

  
    It was a furious scramble for Richie as he dashed towards his telephone that rested atop his beside table. Plain white, with a thick, curly cord that ran outside Richie's bedroom. Sure, he couldn't quite close his door properly, not that his parents ever came up. But, it allowed him to dial Eddie whenever he wanted to, and right now, he wanted to.

  
    However, somewhere between when Richie dialled Eddie's number, and when the boy in question picked up, Richie had changed his mind. Instead when Eddie asked what's up, Richie casually replied with, "just wanted to talk to my best friend," and slapped himself across the forehead.

 

  
FRIDAY 5th OCTOBER, 1993  
7:33 AM — Tozier front lawn

 

  
    "Hey—" Richie jumped out of his skin, turning to face his caller as he walked down the his driveway. "—peeping Tom, you headed to Derry high?"

  
    The girl from last night strode quickly to Richie, pushing her bike with one hand and waving with the other.

  
    Richie gulped before he flexed his arms out in front of him; this girl won't get to him. "It's Richie." He said sternly while placing a hand on his hip, "and yeah, I am."

  
    Her face lit up with a smile, which almost made Richie break out into one. Goddammit, he thought to himself, why'd she have to have Eddie's contagious smile too. "Heather," the now, named girl, stuck her hand out for Richie to shake.

  
    Richie didn't reciprocate the gesture, instead he bounced onto is bicycle seat, and muttered at her. "Well, Heather, we've got to leave or else we're going to be late."

    Heather frowned at Richie's arrogant attitude, but nonetheless swung onto her own rusted baby blue bike, and followed him to the local highschool. "What stick got caught up his arse?"

 

  
FRIDAY 5th OCTOBER, 1993  
8:44 AM — Derry High School

 

  
    Eddie did not like Heather. Not her high pitched voice, her stupid brown hair, or her dumb brown eyes. She strolled into school that morning with Richie, on his right side — Eddie's side — and had the audacity to ask him to move from beside Richie's locker. The reason? That was her locker.

  
    "Eds! I see you've lost the blue tongue disease." Richie jokingly remarked and brushed his shoulder up against Eddie's when the pair reached him, after his altercation with Heather.

  
    Eddie bit his tongue in order to stop a snarky remark at Richie being released, instead going for a simple, "good morning to you too, Richie."

  
    Heather watched the interaction between the best friends with questioning eyes. She used the three scrawled numbers on a thin sheet of paper to unlock her locker, grabbing her books then turning back to the boys. "What do you have first hour, Richie. I have biology with..." she squinted at the name on her timetable, "Mr Turnball."

  
    Eddie visibly groaned, clutching onto his backpack straps tighter. Was it possible to already hate someone less than five minutes after knowing them? Eddie thought so.

  
    "You're in luck, that's what Eds here has." Richie patted Eddie on the shoulder while looking at Heather, to whom Eddie sent a half assed, puckered smile.

  
    Heather beamed. She trod over between Richie and Eddie, looping her arm with the smaller boy's. "Come on, Eds! You can show me 'round."

  
    "It's Eddie," he muttered viscously, yanking his arm out of Heather's grasp. "Mr Turnball hates tardiness."

  
    Eddie then proceeded to speed walk through the hallways with Heather in tow, not even processing Richie's, 'see you at lunch Eddie—Bear!'. He tried to not to let on, but he was furious that Richie had found a new friend; Eddie had never really had to share him with anyone since the Loser's Club. She's not even that cool, Eddie thought to himself, what does Richie see in her?!

  
    "Eddie! Wait up!" Heather heaved as she caught up to the smaller boy outside the biology classroom. She rested her arm against the edge of the door, catching her breath from running to follow Eddie. "Y— You walk fast."

  
    "I know. You don't."

  
    "I— uh, Richie was just informing me on where to go at lunch."

  
    He couldn't have put on any faker of a smile, with his mouth stretched almost too wide as he spoke, "great. See you there." Eddie took his seat near the front of the classroom afterwards, ensuring to put his bag on the seat beside him so Heather would get the warning. Luckily for her, she did.

  
    The lesson, and the rest of the day until lunched passed by slowly for Eddie. He sat in boredom in each of his classes, chin lazily held in his hand, mindlessly paying attention to the teachers. It was just his luck that Heather spent every class with him, except the one before their joint lunch hour with Richie.

 

  
FRIDAY 5th OCTOBER, 1993  
1:04 PM — Derry High School Cafeteria

 

  
     "Heather? Heather. Who even names their child Heather?!" Eddie muttered to himself repetitively while he made his way to the cafeteria, school books held tightly against his chest. He scanned his eyes across the wide, populated room, trying to catch a whiff of Richie's black locks. "Aha—" faster than a pin drop, Eddie's excited mood turned. Heather, was sitting pretty in his seat, right cozy beside Richie.

  
     She, in Eddie's opinion, then had the nerve to beam brightly at him whilst waving her hands furiously. Richie, beside her, noticed her commotion and looked up. He saw Eddie and a faint smile drew upon his lips, not that Eddie could see through his blind rage.

  
     Eddie stammered forward toward the table, not caring whose shoulders he barged into despite the slight discomfort.

  
The expressions of Richie and Heather still hadn't changed, not recognising that Eddie's speedy movements were not a sign of joy.

  
     "You're in my seat." Eddie gruffly spat out when he got to the table, fingers clenching his books tighter if possible, eyebrows deeply furrowed.

  
     Heather dropped her hand from her waving position and awkwardly cleared her throat. "Uh— what?" She stuttered, subconsciously biting her lower lip.

  
     "That's my seat— you're in it!"

  
     "Hey, Eds. Chill, she didn't know." Richie attempt to placate his best friend in a soothing tone. He gently took the books out of Eddie's arms, placing them on the table.

  
     “Yeah, well I didn't know I'd been replaced by some five foot, brunette bitch."

  
     Heather scoffed before she packed up her things, waving a simpering goodbye to Richie.

  
     Eddie was still coming down from his fuming out burst when Richie questioned him, "what the fuck, Eddie?"

  
     "I don't like her, Richie."

  
     "You just meet her!"

  
     "Yeah. Well, it's a gut feeling."

 

✿

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the love guys! comment your thoughts xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeah, four of them, baby! Wanna ride?"

FRIDAY 5th OCTOBER, 1993  
3:10 PM — Derry Public Highschool

 

SCORCHING SUMMER SKIES in Autumn at least, was not something Eddie nor Richie had planned for. Both clad in polyester fleeces, unzipped and hanging off their waists, but still managing to break a sweat. The idea of biking home seemed more dangerous than Bowers. 

 

"Hey, Eds." Richie smacked his lips together, obnoxiously chewing on a blue, peppermint piece of gum. He watched Eddie's spine shake in disgust at the sound, which only propelled Richie to repeat the sound, increasingly louder. "Follow me, you just won't believe what you're gonna see."

 

"Richie, I swear," Eddie groaned, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, "if you're going to show me your dick again, and ask me if it's grown, I'm not interested."

 

Richie released an audible, mocked gasp. "Little Richie and I are very offended. 'Sides, you're gonna like this one." Richie opened his mouth to flash Eddie a shiny grin, one which was toothy, and made his dimples seem even deeper. Eddie didn't even know that was possible. Nonetheless, he agreed to follow Richie to wherever this 'surprise' was, lazily pushing his bike from the side with two hands. 

 

It was sort of just instinct really; Richie makes dumb, stupid plans that would make Eddie's mom buckle over in agony, and he simply followed along. 

 

Once past the burnt orange concrete walls of Derry High, away from the watchful eyes of other students, ones that could lurk within and around, the pair relaxed. Richie had little to worry about, finding his tormentors less and fewer between; unless idiots like Bruce, or Bower's copy cats arouse. He commanded a powerful air around the school. One that said, don't fuck with me — i've seen shit. 

 

Eddie could never find the same luck. Be it slammed into a locker, pushed over in gym, you name it, he's experienced it. Richie was a lucky charm bestowed upon Eddie — one made to make him feel safe and comforted. Not that he felt so when Richie was being so privy to this secret. 

 

"C'mon Richie, just tell me what it is!" Eddie whined, trying to ignore the fact that they were moving in the complete opposite direction of their houses. 

 

Richie halted his movements to turn and face Eddie. He exaggeratedly sighed at the small boy, "then it wouldn't be a surprise."

 

"You know," Eddie said wistfully, "my birthday isn't for another few months, right?"

 

"This isn't really a you present — more of an us."

 

Then Richie completely came to a stop, facing the hot, melting tarmac on the road. He thrust his arm out in front of Eddies torso to make sure he did the same thing, to which Eddie sighed. "Stay here," Richie mumbled incoherently before he dashed across the road, with his bike, without even looking both ways. 

 

"My best friend is an idiot?! And I know this?! And I'm still friends with him?! Does this make me an idiot too?!" Eddie rattled to himself whilst he waited for Richie. Though, the raven haired boy never did more so beckoned him across the road once the coast was clear. 

 

Eddie could see him stood beside a rusted, off white pick up truck, beaming larger than a kid who'd just been gifted an ice cream. Confused, Eddie tottered across the road to Richie. He was about to speak when he was interrupted. 

 

"This baby right here, is Velma!" Richie waved his hands like a show dancer in front of the beat up truck, tone similar to that of a mother who was presenting their gifted child to another. In one of his hands dangled and a clunked a set of keys, they were hooked around Richie's index finger and seemed to shine in the harsh light. 

 

Eddie, however, was not as impressed by Richie's new wheels. He expressed this crossing his arms sharply across his chest, one eyebrow cocked and his eyes glancing between Richie to the truck. 

 

"Richie," Eddie said calmly, a hint of annoyance sneaking in though, "how did you get this car?"

 

The boy in question could do nothing but shy away from the question, brushing it off with a quick comment. "Minor details!"

 

This did not please Eddie, who huffed before questioning again. "Do you even have a license, Rich?"

 

"Minor details," Richie repeated his statement from earlier, the growing smirk that tugged on his lips evidently showing the truth. 

 

"Richie, you don't even know how to drive!"

 

"Like I said," Richie could've nearly buckled over in laughter at how beet red Eddie's face was turning in frustration, "minor details." He then proceeded to hoist his bicycle up and onto the rear of the truck, resting it on it's side with enough space left for another. He gestured for Eddie to come closer with his. 

 

"Nah — uh. No way am I getting in that death trap, with an idiot who doesn't know how to drive!" Eddie determined to prove his point, planted his feet, and his bike, firmly to their spots. 

 

Richie sighed, realising that the situation was going to take a lot more persuading than he thought. "Come on, Eds ... don't you trust me?"

 

It was hard enough for Eddie not to look into those pleading eyes of Richie's. They were like blackholes, once he was sucked in, he could never escape what trouble Richie had planned. "If you really wanted my trust, you'd call me by my name, Tozier."

 

"Well, then. Eddie Kaspbrak, my dearest, don't you trust me?"

 

"No."

 

"Great, let's ride off in— wait, no?!" Richie sounded deeply shocked at his best friend's words, cutting himself off in confusion. Eddie didn't trust Richie? "You're kidding me right? You don't trust your best friend, whose been with you through day and night! Thick and thin! Voice cracks and all! To think I call you my—"

 

"Hey, peeping Tom! You got wheels?"

 

Richie never managed to finish his sentence again as he was interrupted by a voice smooth as honey. Heather. And she was hurriedly moving this way. 

 

Eddie doesn't think he's ever moved so quickly in his life. From his stagnant position with his bike, to chucking the object halfharzardly into the trunk, to fumbling around with the clunky set of keys to the car door he procured from Richie's index finger. For the life of him, he did not want to see her. 

 

Richie rolled his eyes at the younger boy's commotion. The corners of his mouth pulled into a devilish grin as a thought popped into his head, muttering lowly for Eddie to hear, "now you want to go? How about we invite Heather, here?"

 

"Don't you fucking dare, Tozi—" 

 

"Yeah, four of them, baby! Wanna ride?" Richie countered to Heather's previous comment, flopping his arm lazily against the window of the back door, flippantly nodding to the car. 

 

"Uh, totally." Heather said as if it was the easiest thing in the world to get into a car with a boy she'd just met today. 

 

It was as if a volcano erupted inside of Eddie, whose face turned scorching red from rage that his best friend, would invite her?! Heather?! After today?!

 

Richie couldn't quite see why Eddie hated her so much, honestly, he thought they were similar in more ways than one. 

 

Heather moved to place her baby blue bicycle into the trunk of the car, lurching on her tippy toes to reach. She didn't dare attempt for the front seat, not with Eddie guarding it like a rampant dog, seething at the mouth just from her presence. Or, at least that's the vibe he gave off. 

 

✿

 

Velma, as Richie had so fondly named her, truly could be judged by her cover. She barely moved at the speed limit, and what with crazy taxi Tozier driving, she barely kept to the lines on the road. Sputtering sounds emitted from the back engine which Eddie attempted to block out, trying to calm himself down from the fact that ohmygod richie was driving. 

 

Heather had the pleasurable experience of sitting in the backseat, buckled up in the middle and being thrown around every time Richie swerved at a corner, or whipped forward at any abrupt halts. This did not however, deter her in her quest for knowing why Eddie disliked her. 

 

"I forgive you for what you said in the cafeteria, Eddie. Hot day, hot emotions, right?" Heather gently tried to reconcile what relationship she could have with the small boy, not that that was her true ambition, but nevertheless a goal. 

 

Eddie's hand clenched his inhaler tightly in his pocket, eyes locked on the road ahead of him. The amiable* silence that followed Heather's comment hung thickly. He could feel Richie's eyes piercing into his side, almost commanding him; just forgive the girl Eds!

 

Once again, Eddie ignored what ever was directed to him. Until Richie slapped his wrist. 

 

"Ouch! Oh, okay. Yeah, I'm sorry. Yeah," Eddie forced out a half hearted apology, not even bothering to look the girl in the eyes as he was so concentrated on glaring at his best friend, his best friend who had the nerve to put them into this position to begin with. 

 

Heather, obviously pleased with the response, relaxed back into her seat only to be thrown around as Richie navigated around another bend carelessly. 

 

"Tally ho! To Eddie's home we go, ah there's the 'beaut herself." Richie mocked an unimpressive english accent, much like what he used to do when they were younger, to no effect on older Eddie. The smaller boy was upset they'd arrived so quickly at his house, and even more upset to be leaving Richie alone with the she devil herself!

 

Eddie huffed as Richie dragged his bike out of the boot, parking it alongside the shed for him. "I'll see you tomorrow, Eds?" He brought his arm around Eddie's shoulder for a one sided hug, nuzzling his chin atop of the moussy brown locks. 

 

"Whatever. Later Tozier," Eddie wrenched himself out of Richie's grasp, still slightly frustrated with how things had planned out, but still cracked a grin at the raven haired boys retreating figure. 

 

Mrs Kaspbrak watched the interaction from her lounge window, stood behind the cream, flowered curtains, peeping through a crack. She'd seen her son pull up in that aids epidemic waiting to happen, and the hug the driver pulled him into. 

 

She missed the grin her only child gave him, and the way his eyes solemnly followed the car. But, she didn't miss the feminine figure in the backseat of the car, reaching their long legs to take the front seat, obviously in a heated discussion with the driver already. This was a fact she made sure to note. 

 

Sonia waited at the door for Eddie to dawdle in, patting him softly on the back as she whispered, "I was wrong about Richie, hunny, seems he's been cured. "


	6. Late, late, late! Part one

SATURDAY 6th OCTOBER, 1993   
10:15 AM — Eddie Kaspbrak's bedroom 

 

           FRIGID SWEAT POOLED on Eddie's spine, the hairs stuck up like stalks, with an uneasy feeling of clamminess surrounding them. It was as if his body could sense a shift in balance of his world. His emotions were irregular, spiking at times when unnecessary, such as every time he saw Heather. Eddie seemed to go into fight or flight mode when she was around. Him, or her, Richie couldn't just have two best friends— not when he already had Eddie.

 

Eddie rolled over to his left side, sheets underneath him covered in a thin layer of perspiration. The movement allowed a breath of fresh air for his spine. Sunlight crawled into his bedroom through the slither between his curtains, an imminent reminder of the late morning, indicating Eddie had slept in. Alas, a Saturday morning — no school, no early start. Just the arcade with Richie at ten. 

 

At ten. 

 

"Shit!" Eddie cursed whilst falling off the bed, legs entwined in the blankets still atop of the mattress, his upper half upside down facing the window. "Agh— shit, shit, shit!" He squirmed, trying to escape the deathly grips of his covers, the digitalised red blinking numbers of 10:15 teasing him. Late, late— Eddie was late! 

 

The covers, as if sensing his anxiety, released their grip and Eddie went tumbling to the hardwood floor face first. Eddie groaned in pain at the contact, muttering a "stupid bed, stupid sheets."

 

"Ma! Has Richie been 'round?" Eddie screeched through his ajar door, bustling throughout the room to find suitable clothing, well, clothing in general. Currently, Eddie was shirtless, with only a pair of forest green boxers to adorn his thin legs. Growing frustrated, Eddie half–hazardously chucked on an off white pair of track pants, green henley and what he was sure was Richie's oversized jean jacket. 

 

"Mommy! Has he been round?" Eddie insistently queried, skipping the stairs to his room two at a time, a scene which would make his mother screech for health and safety.

 

Eddie heeled himself into the lounge where Sonia Kaspbrak was sat on the reclined lazy boy, outstretched, lazily eating from a bowl of carrot slices. She barely lifted her head from the TV screen to acknowledge her son, speaking softly with her words. "No, Eddie–Bear, Richard had not been around."

 

The space between Eddie's eyebrows narrowed as he cinched them in confusion, why would Richie had not turned up? Eddie was the one who was late. 

 

Eddie could understand that most things weren't like normal as of late, not after Heather's arrival, and the beginning of school. But Richie always came to Eddie's before the arcade on Saturdays, it was ritual. It was all Eddie had ever known; like how peanut butter and jelly went together, how pineapple didn't go on pizza, how he takes his sea foam green pills at exactly eight every night, Richie would meet him for the arcade at Eddie's every Saturday. 

 

So, this is why Eddie found himself power pedalling his silver rusted bicycle, knuckles clenched tightly around the handle bars, mumbling about how he's going to "kill him" when he sees Richie. 

 

Eddie swerved harshly around a narrow corner, not noticing the large pile of leaves that scattered the pathway side of the road, a major trip hazard. He powered on, sliding right through the mess, unbalancing his wheels and sending Eddie flying onto the concrete sidewalk, curled in a tight ball. 

 

"Ouch! Ouch!," pants escaped Eddie's mouth, breathing heavily, unable to calm himself down. His knees came out scathed, tears of red leaking from his knee caps, minuscule pieces of gravel stuck between the shredded skin. Eddie winced loudly, unable to bring himself to look at his legs. 

 

"He's— going to—" somehow, Eddie still focused on the task of cursing Richie in between gasps. He crawled towards his bike askew in the pile of leaves, tainting the coffee coloured crisps with his blood, ignoring or attempting to ignore the scale of germs. Slouched across his seat, Eddie used the handle bars to heave himself onto the pedals, slowly adjusting himself back into a rhythm; this time keeping two eyes on all hazards ahead, behind or beside. 

 

The Tozier residence was in sight. Eddie could make out Velma in the distance, shockingly parked on the roadside, Richie's bike leant against the tan, weather beaten fence. People were home. The house thrummed with an alive energy, calling Eddie closer to it. 

 

Eddie didn't bother to stand his bike up against the fence beside Richie's, dropping it to the ground as he hobbled to the front door. He was determined. There had to be a plausible reason Richie didn't show up, right? 

 

Eddie raised his right hand, curled into a fist, ready to rasp against the door when it was opened from the other side. The strong stench of cigarettes and something else Eddie couldn't quite match, but what he guessed was alcohol, was released into the atmosphere. Eddie's favourite person in the world was on the other side of the door, how convenient. 

 

Heather languidly laughed as she opened the door, stumbling over her own two feet. "Thanks Richie for the advice," she said, but the words slurred to sound like 'thanshee for vice'. She bumbled into a shocked Eddie on the porch, finally noticing the small boy stood in there. 

 

He couldn't believe. He truly couldn't. Richie had stood him up for a girl, Heather of all girls?! Eddie was shell shocked, frozen to his feet as Heather bumped into him, apologising repeatedly, talking over herself, brushing imaginary dust off Eddie's shoulder to balance herself. 

 

"Richie! Richie! RICHIE! EDS IS HERE!" Heather loudly screeched to an empty entranceway, her grasp tight and unrelenting on Eddie. 

 

It was as if a lightbulb was switched back on in Eddie's head, and all of his gears begun to work again, processing the situation in front of him, and more importantly the hand on his shoulder. He whacked his head to glare daggers at Heather's side profile, then shifted his narrowed eyes to focus on their point of contact, believing if he glared hard enough, her hand would burn off like dry ice on moles. "Don't call me Eds."

 

Sadly, this was not the case, and Eddie had to resort to plucking her hand off with his own. "Why the hell are you h—"

 

"Spaghetti–man! My favourite shortie!" Richie raced through the hallway, cutting off Eddie, narrowly avoiding running into three different walks, and then the front door. He engulfed Eddie in a bear hug, lifting the smaller boy up off the ground. 

 

Eddie stayed still as a dead fish, limp in Richie's arms. He was mad, no, he was furious with Richie. And all Richie appeared to be was elated, and a little tipsy. He cleared his throat, indicating for Richie to place him back on the ground, his knee still aching and bleeding from his scrape. What could be mistaken as curse was Eddie breathing sharply through his teeth as he remade contact with the ground, Richie's arms still tightly wound around his body, head lolled down to look at the smaller boy. 

 

During this, Heather had escaped, dizzily strolling back to her house next door. 

 

Eddie tilted his head up to look Richie directly in the eye. His glinted with anguish, annoyance set deeply within him. "You didn't come."

 

"Mrs K told you? That was a secret!"

 

"No— I— what—?! Richie, no, you never came to pick me up for the arcade, you know, what we do every Saturday. Then I come here, bust my knee, you're with the she devil, and now you're making some fucking joke about my mom again!" 

 

Richie giggled. He giggled. He brushed his fingers along Eddie's cheek, not taking in what Eddie was saying, twirling an adrift curl of his chestnut locks. "Whoops," there came the smoke scent from Richie's mouth onto Eddie's face. 

 

Eddie was flabbergasted, he sputtered impulsively, "Whoops? Whoops?! I'm going to whoop your ass, is right!" Although significantly shorter than Richie, Eddie puffed his chest, sticking his chin up in the air defiantly. He could beat Richie, if he tried. "Yeah, 'chee, you thought me beating you at the arcade was a one off? Well, you were wro—"

 

"Shhh." Richie's finger aimlessly dropped from Eddie's curls to pressing his lips together.  "I have something funner to do."

 

Eddie couldn't help it. He couldn't stay mad at Richie. Even when Richie had completely left him in the dust, forgotten and lost like a child at the supermarket, he forgave him. Curse Richie and his magical forgiving superpower he held over Eddie, it was in those doe, hazel eyes, that shone with apologies. It was a strange effect this time however, on Eddie. His heart thrummed at the touch, pounding hard enough break his rib cage, or at least that's how he felt. 

 

"That's not even a word," Eddie said once Richie had removed his index finger, only to have it return. Then came that feeling again. 

 

"Shhh." Richie hooked his gangly arm around Eddie's, hauling him through the hallway to the staircase at the end. Beer bottles were hazardously skewed across the floor, some shattered, others half drunk, the rest leaking onto the hardwood floors drop by drop. Crushed cigarette butts sat in stacks on any open surface. 

 

If Sonia Kaspbrak were to know the state of the Tozier house, she surely would have an aneurysm. 

 

Eddie allowed Richie to drag him around like a rag doll, limp in his grip, faintly recognising the pain in his knee. "'Chee," he clicked his tongue, "I'm still mad at you."

 

They'd reached the thin, ascending staircase. Richie coined his neck for Eddie to see a glimmer of a smirk. Richie then used one arm to steady himself on the bannister, and the other to tug Eddie up the stairs, despite his insistent refusals. "Shhh," Richie said multiple times in response, always the same with his finger on Eddie's lips. It frustrated Eddie to all ends, huffing every time he was shut up. 

 

Unceremoniously, Richie shoved Eddie onto his unmade, untidy single bed, then bustled to gather what he called "supplies." Or, at least that's what Eddie thought he'd said. He couldn't tell with the way Richie slurred his p's and l's together. 

 

Eddie busied himself with tidying Richie's bed, hospital folding the sheets, fluffing the pillow, and tucking his comforter in tight; just how he'd like it at home. 

 

"What is that, that's so fun, Richie?" Eddie hummed curiously, back turned to the raven haired boy, occupied with placing an extra throw on the bed. 

 

Richie drum rolled obnoxiously on his knees, capturing Eddie's attention. He proceeded to burst his hands into the air, with an elated ah. He near shouted, "Welcome to Toziers tattoo shop! You're-e-e-e-e up, Eddie." Richie pretended to swing a baseball bat, a strong New York accent coating his voice. 

 

"No..." Eddie's voice drifted off in disbelief that Richie could be this stupid. "No? No!"

 

"Come on, Edsie." Richie presented his tools on the bed beside Eddie. A thin sewing needle, a lighter, what he was sure a shredded piece of Richie's navy shirt, and a bottle of rum. "It'll be fun! Jus' like yesterday, with Velma, broom broom! But, stab, stab."

 

The ride in Velma was hardly fun, Eddie thought to himself. His eyes flickered waveringly between Richie, then the needle, then back to Richie again. "Is that needle even sterile?" He asked pointedly, folding his arms tightly across his chest. 

 

Richie hummed for a second, before he picked it up and plunged the needle right between his two lips, sucking on it for a few moments then removing it with a dazzling smile. "Now it is."

 

The urge to throw up was tempting. Eddie's shoulders shook in disgust as he dry heaved, as if doing that would help. "I can't believe you... want to," Eddie grumbled to himself, his reprimands lost on the Tozier boy. 

 

Richie sighed a long sigh, exaggeratedly standing up from the floor, slowly moving all his limbs. "You know, Heather wasn't this reluctant..." he disclosed gently, back turned to Eddie's and moving as if he were in slow motion.

 

Fuck it. Eddie's not sure what he's about to start, but he thinks they call it war.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So," Richie started, "am I still an irresistible hunk? Richie Tozier—local bookstore hottie, they're all gonna—"
> 
> Eddie interrupted him. "Why did you say Heather did it, when she didn't?"

 

SATURDAY 6th OCTOBER, 1993  
11:03 AM — Richie Tozier's house

  
**THE FIRE ALARMS** in Eddie's head went off again. His eyes shone red but not without a tinge of green. He choked on his spit, the words lost in his throat, but managed to gain the confidence back. Richie was halfway to the door, still doing his gimmicky, slow motion walk.

     "Stop— I... fuck, I'm going to regret this— Richie just do it!" Eddie spits out.

      Richie sprints back to the bed, grasping Eddie's forearm in his hand, making sure he got a hold of him before he backed out.

     "You sure, Eds? You don't really have to." Not that Eddie could back out, not when Richie fell to his knees in front of him, vice like grip on one arm, his free hand holding the ink stained needle. The older boy barely contained glee, mouth breaking into a shocking smile, considering the unnerved fear Eddie was emoting.

     "Richie," Eddie said calmly, slower than before, "if you don't hurry the fuck up, I'm going to change my mind."

     Richie giggled, much like downstairs, but this time it kind of made Eddie happy too. "So," Richie started, placing his forearms across Eddie's thighs to rest his chin on, "whaddya' want Eds?"

     "Firstly, for you to stop calling me that." The words were easy for Eddie to say; he'd said them a million times in his life, but his voice nearly cracked as he tried to speak again. "I—I don't know, 'Chee, just... uh, do whatever?" Bad idea, terrible idea, never give Richie complete control of a situation.

     "Perfect." Richie grinned.

      Seem delighted. Smile, Eddie. When the corners of Eddie's lips tugged upwards, although forcefully, it gave Richie his approval.

     Despite only taking a second, it felt like a millennium for the needle in Richie's hand to touch Eddie's skin, and when it did—the dam released. Tears welled in the corner of Eddie's eyes, and god dammit he'd told himself he wouldn't cry.

     It took the fearful whimper from Eddie the second time Richie went to skim the needle across his skin for Richie to realize.

     "Eds?" He tilted his head up, "what's wrong, sugar?"

     Eddie shook his head. Hold it together, stay calm you absolute fuckwit. "Just hurts a l—little bit." His cracked voice betrayed him in the end. 

     Richie raised an eyebrow in speculation. "You sure? So, it's okay if I keep going?"

     "Of course...y—yes."

     Eddie breathed in deeply. Heather wasn't this reluctant. Heather wasn't this reluctant. You're Eddie fucking Kaspbrak, for Christ's Sake.

     Richie held Eddie's gaze during the third, and what would be, final time he skimmed the needle across his skin. Tears rolled down Eddie's cheeks freely, juxtaposed to his fervent nods.

     Just like that, the needle was gone, thrown back behind Richie without a second thought. He pushed up from his knees to be level with Eddie, whom subconsciously sighed in relief, dropping his head down to the floor in partial embarrassment.

     "Spaghetti," Richie cradled his jaw. "No tears—please don't cry."

     Words evaded Eddie in the moment, the only response able to come out a small, choked sob.

     "Come on, babe," Richie's thumbs swiped the falling tears from his cheeks, releasing a genuine smile from Eddie, "'twas just a joke."

     Laughter, fake, escaped Richie to prove his point.

      Eddie shook his head—tears still gently streaming across his cheeks—and croaked. "This is so fucking stupid." He wasn't lying. Richie wanting to drunkenly tattoo him, Eddie agreeing, all because of... a girl? Eddie hated the twisted sensation in his gut at the thought of her.

     "Of course it is—middle name is stupid, 'member?"

     "God, I hate you." Eddie groaned.

     Richie gasped, dropping his mouth in a large 'o' shape. "You sinful Catholic boy, Eddie."

     Believe it or not, Richie's terrible joke was what brought Eddie from tears to laughter, and also why he slapped Richie across the shoulder. "Not what I meant, dickhead."

     Both boys erupted into a comfortable babble. Tension lingered in the air, both deciding to ignore the previous situation—despite the red edges of Eddie's eyes, dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and the faint scent of bourbon on Richie's breath.

     Four sharp knocks on the household door interrupted their conversation.

 

  
✿

 

  
     Richie clasped his hand around the golden, worn to bronze, doorknob, careful to avoid the fraying pieces of wood around it. Behind the door, stood impatiently tapping his foot, was the post delivery man. Now alert, the man with a package tucked underneath his armpit makes direct eye contact with Richie, a withering glare in his eyes, as if this wasn't his job.

     "Are you Mr Tozier?" He demanded, already the thrusting the small package foreword, eyes glued firmly to the middle of Richie's forehead.

     Eddie waited behind Richie's form, peeking over his shoulder to looks at the delivery man, and quickly retreating.

     Richie cleared his throat. "Uhm— that's actually my father, not that he's here to collect it. Not that he'd ever be here to collect, mind you, when was the last time he was here?! Oh well, might as well take it for the old fella aye—aye, Eds?"

      Richie looked over his shoulder for Eddie, whom had some how escaped the room without him noticing whilst he was rambling.

     "Ah, fuck." He cursed, giving the postman an apologetic shoulder shrug.

     "I seem to have lost my spaghetti man! He can get away on me like that sometimes. I'll just take this here package and you can be on your way then. Toodles!" The man could hardly speak before the door was being slammed shut in his face.

      "Eddie Spaghetti! Where for art thou? I've got mail." He whistled throughout the entrance way, clumsily stumbling past all the mess. Eddie, however, to Richie's disappointment, was not hiding behind the curtains. Nor the couch, not even under the sink. Trust him, he checked.

     Richie sighed. "Eddie? Okay... I guess I'll just wait here... by myself... all alone... with no one else to talk to..."

      In the end, he lost patience and wound up falling to the bottom of the staircase, ironically, on his bottom. In his hands was the small package from earlier, delicately wrapped in brown paper with string, which was only to be torn apart by Richie. Inside was his old coke bottle glasses, the nose piece taped together with electrical tape, and the frames replaced. Underneath them lay a letter, which Richie read aloud to himself.

**‘ SORRY RICHIE — EL <3 ’**

  
     Richie's nose crinkled, a small smile gracing his lips. The summer with the Wheelers had been mostly great, and eventful, besides his mishap with the ever-so-crazy, and what Richie believes not quite right in the head, girlfriend of his cousin.

      But not like Richie could complain, his Eds— his best friend, not boyfriend, just boy who is a friend— could exert crazed psycho-maniac tendencies too. Over spilt milk, literal spilt milk.

    **‘ hey cuz! was neato having you around this summer would be ~~awesome~~ _totally tubular_ to have you again. bring eds too! —MIKE**

**& Dustin  & LUCAS & max & Will <3 ’**

     "Chee, I'm uh—" Eddie's voice and the pitter patter of his feet echoed throughout the hallway.

     "—I'm going to head off...Richie?"

     His voice was all it took to pull Richie out of his trance. Richie blinked once, then twice, shaking his head. It didn't do well to dwell on unsolicited thoughts, or at least that's what his English teacher raved about, or whatever that meant.

      "It's a letter, from Mike. Cousin Mike."

      Eddie came into Richie's peripheral view, taking a seat on the staircase beside him. He squinted at the letter, then at the repaired glasses, making grabby hands for the old frames.

     Confused, Richie handed over the glasses, confused as to why Eddie would want them. But then, Eddie was forcing him to remove his contacts and gently sliding the glasses back on his nose. It took a moment to adjust, but then Richie was seeing Eddie again through his surprisingly clear glasses. He missed the look of adoration.

     "So," Richie started, "am I still an irresistible hunk? Richie Tozier—local bookstore hottie, they're all gonna—"

      Eddie interrupted him. "Why did you say Heather did it, when she didn't?"

  
       "Because," Richie said in a sing song voice, "You hate her Eds! You little spitfire, bountiful ball of rage. She's been taking your Richie time, of course! Don't worry, there's enough to go round..."

     Eddie rolled his eyes, ignoring the budding beads of sweat in his palms. "Yeah right, you egotistical oaf."

     "Ooh! Eds gets off a good one!"

     "Shut up. I've go to go now." Eddie stood up, wiping his palms on his track pants, awkwardly facing Richie's sitting figure.

      Richie scrambled up when he saw Eddie turn. He smushed the smaller boys face between his hands to plant a big, wet kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, Edsikins."

      Leaving Eddie in shock, Richie proceeded to dawdle back to his room, humming what sounded like hooked on a feeling under his breath. Eddies grumbles sounded throughout the house.

     "Fucking—stupid ass, dumb ass, Tozier bitch..."

       The faint tinge of pink splattering his cheeks spoke differently.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Jealousy is the monster in all people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Eddie won't be alone with his right hand forever," Richie interrupted Eddie, leaning over the smaller boy to excitedly say to Heather. Heather, all together, appeared amused.
> 
> Eddie groaned. He hated that Richie made it like this, every time. "Incorrect, Richard," he pushed Richie with a punch to his arm. "I'm left handed, dick."
> 
> "You got me there, sweetheart."

_SUNDAY 7th OCTOBER, 1993_   
_11:05_ **_PM_ ** _— Eddie Kaspbrak's bedroom_

 

      **EDDIE PACED VIGOROUSLY** across the length of his bedroom. He threaded his hands anxiously through his already frazzled curls, an apparent sense of distress wafting from him. School tomorrow. He would see Richie tomorrow. Yes, it may have been a bit middle school to avoid Richie's phone calls—but Eddie had reason!

      He couldn't stop thinking about what Richie had said, that he was  _jealous. . .of_   _Heather?!_

     But then he winced, remembering the brutal comments he had made to the girl that he didn't even know. Of course, he was probably too harsh. Eddie knew that, it was just how he was—what, with everyone thinking it was their place to call him names and shove him around, Eddie supposed he had become standoffish.

     Maybe Richie  _was right._

     "Wait—no, I can't believe I just thought that." Eddie groaned. He'd never be able to live  _that_ down.

     He stopped pacing, releasing the concrete clutch he had on his hair, falling back onto his bed. His white comforter billowed around him, encasing Eddie in a cocoon of warmth and fresh laundry detergent. Out from underneath the pillow, a thin notebook snuck out, Eddie's neat calligraphy detailing the front.

_Eddie Kaspbrak's Diary: DO NOT TOUCH!_

_So original, Eds!_  Richie would've piped. That is, of course, meaning Eddie would've shown it to Richie, which he had not.

Speaking of said diary, Eddie caught himself staring hotly at it. He hadn't used the old thing since before high school, back when they were still friends with. . . _who were they friends with again?_ Besides the point. He remembers a stupid thing he used to do: write something in the diary, a commitment per se, and he would force himself to do it.

Eddie tugged the diary closer towards him, flicking a few pages in—just to see what stupid things he used to write, of course.

_1\. stop richie buying stupid shit_   
_2\. don't take the pills anymore_   
_3\. jump off the quarry with losers!_   
_4\. ask stanley if he's okay_

_"_ Stanley?" Eddie frowned. "Stanley. . .who's Stanley?" He couldn't quite get the last name off the top of his tongue, but an image of a thin, fragile boy was foggy in his head—gone by the time he turned the page over.

Eddie chewed his bottom lip between his teeth. Was he really doing this? Was she really worth it? God, he didn't even know. He didn't even give her a chance, fuck, Richie was right.

     Pencil clutched in one hand, shakily making indentations on the page, he made a promise to himself.

     "You got this Eddie. . ."

 

_MONDAY 8th OCTOBER, 1993_   
_1:00_ **_PM_ ** _— Derry High School cafeteria_

 

_". . .you got this._ Just—say you're sorry. Glare a little at Richie. . ." Eddie backtracked on his words, rethinking hisstatement on the cause of his dilemma. "Okay. Maybe a lot at Richie."

     It was almost de-ja-vu going to lunch in the cafeteria, but this time, Eddie was set with a wide brimmed smile and a determined bounce in his step. He needed to fix this.

     Heather, like last time, had already taken a seat at the bench, luckily not on Eddie's seat this time. She nudged mindlessly at the salad greens on her plate, her other hand holding her chin up.

     Eddie marched towards her confidently. "You know," he started, standing in front of her with his hands tightly gripping the straps of his bag, "moving it around won't make it disappear, you'll need some fork to mouth action to make that happen."

     She snapped her head up at Eddie's voice, an almost nervous look etched on her features. Eddie hated that; he wasn't really a terrible person—or at least he tried not to be. "Oh—ah. . .I suppose."

Eddie could work with this. He ignored Richie's pointed, smug smirk as he had deduced Eddie's intentions. Eddie slotted himself between Heather and Richie, all whilst both maintained steady eye contact with Eddie as though he would crack any second.

"I'm here to apologise." Eddie said nonchalantly, head turned toward Heather. He meant it, really, he did. Sincerity wasn't hard to spit out when it was real. "I was really,  _really_  horrible to you. God," Eddie begun to reflect on his actions, eyes widening at the severity of some of his actions.

"Eddie it's fine, really—"

"No! I was so terrible. . .oh god, oh lord. I can't believe I've done this what would my. . ." Heather exchanged a look with Richie over Eddie's head as the person in question started a long winded self reprimand.

"Eddie, stop." she placed her hand on his shoulder, interrupting his train of thoughts. "It's fine, truly. I accept your apology." Eddie sighed in relief, feeling as though a twisted tension in his whole body had been released.

"Besides," she continued, "Richie's toots your horn enough that I can assume you're a brilliant person."

Richie gasped. "I tell you this in confidence!"

Both Heather and Eddie erupt into a small moment of laugher at Richie's dramatisation, share a look and it's as though the slate has been wiped clean. Or, as clean as a slate can be wiped for Eddie. _Yeah, like hell he was jealous of Heather._

Once Richie was no longer the butt of the joke, he takes pride in Eddie's apology, lazily throwing an arm around his shoulders while he smirked. "Not too hard, aye, Edward?"

"Fucken' suck my dick," Eddie cussed, then added, " _Richard._ "

Richie cooed at that, leaning much closer to stage whisper. So, most people's normal voice. "Oh babe! I thought you would never ask, but maybe not in public sweets." He threw in a wink for added measure and cheek.

Eddie choked on the bite of his sandwich, his cheeks flaming but determined to ignore it. "Did you see that?" he asked, but not giving enough time to answer. "I nearly spat my sandwich out, asshole."

     "Good thing I have some extra meat down here, then." Richie provocatively gestured to his pelvis.

     "Fuck off!"

     Richie rolled his eyes, dramatically lifting his arm away from Eddie's shoulder and curling in on himself. "Fine," he muttered, "fuck, there a needle stick up your ass or something?"

     "Pardon?"

     "Nothing, sir!"

     "Good. That's what I thought."

     Heather watched the interaction with a thoughtful eye. She could see both boys spit evoking statements at each other, full of cusses and negativity, but she could also see the light and light behind each of their eyes when they mocked each other. Besides, she was still shocked by Eddie's out of the blue apology. Richie had consoled her that it could take months for Eddie to warm up, but four days, that's got to be a record or  _something._

All three were so wrapped in their own individual thoughts and conversations they missed the girl from Eddie's math heading towards them.

     Richie hummed. "So, Spaghetti Head, what spurred this—"

     "Hey, Eddie!" the girl energetically stated. Sandra, that was her name, Eddie knows. She sits beside him as they confuse themselves over the pythagoras theorem.

     "Oh," Eddie gulped, confused now as to why she approached him outside of class. "Something the matter?"

     "I'm actually having a bonfire on Friday night, and I was wondering if you want to come?" she asked, rocking back and forth on her heels.

     Richie whistled lowly in shock, capturing Sandra's attention. "You two," she gestured to Richie and Heather, "can come too!"

     Doubt nagged in Eddie's mind. He  _knew_ Sandra, she wasn't like  _that,_ but still Eddie was cautious — and there was the situation with his mother. However, when he saw Richie and even Heather's encouraging looks he felt empowered. "Sounds brilliant, catch you then!" he only slightly ruined the cool tone through finger snapping at her as she left. Luckily, she just smiled and walked away.

     "Oh god. What just happened?" Eddie blinked in shock. Did a girl just invite him to a party? Eddie could hardly believe it, this was a first for him.

      Richie winked in response, nudging him cheekily in the side. "Yowza! My baby gets some!" he all but whooped in Eddie's ear, tone caught between proud and teasing. Eddie nervously smiled back, still unsure what to make of the situation.

     "Come on, 'Chee—"

     "Eddie won't be alone with his right hand forever," Richie interrupted Eddie, leaning over the smaller boy to excitedly say to Heather. Heather, all together, appeared amused.

     Eddie groaned. He hated that Richie made it like this,  _every time_. "Incorrect, Richard," he pushed Richie with a punch to his arm. "I'm left handed, dick."

"You got me there, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful comments, and over 100 kudos! Agh

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me @ ramostozier on wattpad, and @ eddieseleven on tumblr!


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